A Word to the Wise
by Pass-the-tea
Summary: It always seemed bad timing for Dean to think about emotions, but in trying to help a human Castiel manage his own, Dean is shown the importance of acting on them.
1. Chapter 1

The impala had been through a lot. It had met a vast assortment of foes inclusive of angels, archangels, gods and monsters; sometimes creatures that fit into more than one of those categories. It had been there through heartbreaks, reunions, joy and sadness, with Dean's playlist blaring with or without Sam's reluctant consent. It had more flaws and scratches than one could count, but each marked a memorable moment; the time Sam was carsick, or the time they raced to save an angel, scratching the side door on the exit. Big moments and small, the impala had a permanent memory despite Dean's care to keep her young.

Dean sat thinking of all the ways this scene looked like home; Sam in the passenger side, sleeping while Bon Jovi played low in the background. It had been a while since Dean turned up the music; he was tired of distractions, and it was worrying Sam though he wouldn't admit it. Dean had noticed his empathetic expressions and his 'we-need-to-talk' face making more and more appearances lately, and he was thankful Sam had fallen asleep before they had a sharing and caring moment. Dean always hated empathy; it looked too much like pity.

The truth was, and Dean would only admit this to himself quietly, that his happiness had left when the angels fell. Don't misunderstand though, the angels had all been grouped together in his mind as dicks, and he would have been grateful a year or two ago to see those sons of bitches fall, but not now. Through all Dean had been through; losing his father, hell, Sam's demon blood, apocalypse and purgatory, not to mention the casualties ; he had been leaning on his angel a bit too much. Entertaining and teasing Cas while looking out for the nerdy little angel had been therapeutic for him, and being apart from his crutch so suddenly left his limp far too noticeable to hide from Sam.

Sam. Dean knew he should talk to Sam- reassure him at least. They were brothers after all. But somehow talking to Sam felt different than talking to Cas; for Dean to share his feelings with sensitive Sammy felt so overt, and made such a big deal of things. Sam always dealt emotionally with his problems; Dean would just drive faster and turn up the music.

The tires screech as the impala rounds a corner, and Dean slows down just a bit. So, yeah talking to Sammy about happiness and sadness and anything emotional really had a sinking feeling to it, like it was accepted. But sadness shouldn't be accepted and Dean sure as hell can't accept it after everything they'd come out of. But talking to Cas, it felt different. Although pop culture references may be lost on him, and he's too naive when it comes to trusting other people, and his fashion sense resembles that of a tax collector, he knew how to accept anything without making it feel heavy. You could say you were hungry or severely depressed and have each accepted the same way, because Cas _was_ acceptance. Is acceptance, Dean corrects for himself.

His thoughts have been pretty jumbled lately. Through three states so far, countless interviews, and countless diners because Sam reminds him they're unfortunately human and insists on food and bathroom breaks. The only leads they had had all been chalked up to good timing or someone else's angel.

Looking over at Sam, Dean realized he was still holding his cell phone. Dean snickered. Gabriel had been in touch earlier that day; that son of a bitch never stays dead. Having faked his death and fooling Lucifer himself is one thing, but making a deal with a crossroads demon had ensured he maintain his angel status right up until the events of late. Now painfully human, the trickster himself reached out to the only mobile phone number he had besides a brothel in Queens, and it was Sam's. It seems he needed to keep himself occupied, so he spent the early days of his humanity helping the boys search for Castiel, and trying to keep his temper at bay.

Judging from what Gabriel said, they were just a few miles outside of Lincoln where they would investigate a local's claims of finding a missing person wearing a beige trench coat. That was apparently all Gabriel could get from the police scanner he managed to acquire within days of acquiring humanity; always a trickster, and unfortunately still a vague one. At least they had a lead, and if this missing person turned out to be Jimmy Novak then they could finally take a much needed break.

Dean tugged on Sam's hair, still driving. "Rise and shine Rapunzel, we'll be there in a few minutes."

Sam groaned, "Mm right. It's a bit late to go to the house now don't you think? Maybe we could take a break, get something to eat, and at least wait until sunrise before we barge in."

"No."

Sam watched his brother, as unflinching as ever, stare straight out the window with a look in his eyes that said he would be speaking for the both of them. He couldn't fool his younger brother though; Sam saw the dark circles forming around Dean's eyes, representing his human exhaustion, and perhaps also his hunger. "Fine. I just thought it would be beneficial to talk to some of the locals you know? If I were Cas I wouldn't stay in one place, I'd try to get out on my own to find us, and God knows Cas was always so independent. Uh, pardon the pun."

A small offer, but Dean was tired enough to take it. "Yeah maybe we can talk to some locals, but make sure you call him Jimmy—we can't be drawing too much attention to our friend 'Castiel-former-angel-of-the-lord-in-a-trenchcoat. You never know who might be listening."

"Right." Sam replied, satisfied.

Dean began to slow and pulled in to a quaint yet cliché diner marking their entrance to Lincoln. The sign glowed in through the trees in front, and when the doors to the impala opened the sound of incessant crickets filled their ears. Dean gripped the side door when he stepped outside; his tired hunger now making him dizzy. He hoped Sam didn't see the display, but you can't hide anything from Sam and his psychic heebie-jeebies.

The bell sounded over the door when they walked in; it was probably a nice sound though at four in the morning it was more like a fire alarm. Everyone at the bar but one flashed a look their way, accept for one. And we was wearing a faded trenchcoat.

"Cas." Dean let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and he and Sam proceeded to hug the confused and tired figure at the bar.

"Hey Cas! Let me look at cha." Dean's boyish grin awaited another, but the best Cas could offer was a sideways smile as he gripped his friends. Heads lowered, the brothers felt their shoulders drop with relief, but Cas remained as stiff as his outfit implied.

"Cas what's wrong?" Sam had been brave enough to voice it once they were seated at a booth with some burgers. Dean thanked Sam silently for being so good with emotions as he ate in silence, waiting for an answer. Truth is he really did care, but he was still reeling from seeing Cas' expression. Surely he couldn't have expected the angel to be completely happy with the outcome, but he wasn't prepared for the dirt stained face which was a bit too slender for the deep set wet eyes. Probably the worst of it was his eyes; so blue even in Purgatory, they now appeared gray and shielded under an expressionless haze. The angel had lost his sparkle.

"What do you think is wrong with me Sam?" His voice creaked as if it hadn't been used in days. _Jesus_.

"Well it's just that you didn't reach out to us. Didn't call or send a message. Gabriel was the one who told us we might find you here."

His eyes flashed up from his plate at his brother's name. "He's alright?"

"Well, he's still human, but yeah, he's alright." Dean couldn't stand the long faces he saw around him. The hectic state he had found his mind to be in while he and Sam searched for Cas had finally calmed down, but the sadness he now felt for Cas managed to weigh about the same. And now Sam looks at Cas with an equally gloomy expression? It's crazy; this should be the best night of their life at least recently. Team Free Will, back together.

Dean felt his responsibility kick in; he once again found himself looking out for the best interests of his family. He skipped the part where they shower Cas with questions and demand to know why he was so silent after they fell. Wanting to know answers took a back seat to entertaining, and he smiled at Cas beside him before saying to Sam, "Finally, I'll have someone riding shotgun who actually appreciates my music. Or at least doesn't like to argue about it."

Cas nodded silently to Sam, and remains quiet until Dean jokes about how they'd found better food in Purgatory than what was on their plates. The smile wasn't particularly loud, but it spoke volumes.


	2. Chapter 2 : Stay

If dinner was any kind of weird, then the hotel situation was just plain awkward. After driving around for what seemed like forever the boys finally found a cheap motel located conveniently across from another 24 hour diner; Lincoln seemed full of them. The sign had a few letters unlit and sure the carpeting rolled up at the walls and the whole thing smelled like fish, but to Dean it was home. All angel-searching and no sleep really takes it out of a guy, and this place held the promise of sleep.

After an awkward discussion with a creepy and socially awkward teen working the service desk about sleeping arrangements, they learned there were no rooms with three beds and that they would have to settle for a room of two, and a single.

"Right, so Cas gets his own room and we'll take the one next door." Dean decided in the elevator, his yawn almost making the sentence unintelligible; all he could think about was sleep.

"Yeah and if you need anything you can just come see us ok?" Sam's concerned look made Dean think he should have thought of offering. He smiled apologetically at Cas.

"Well," Cas groaned, clearly uncomfortable. "I do not actually need to go to sleep tonight."

"What? Of course you do, you're no angel man, you need some shut eye." But Dean could tell it wouldn't be any good; Cas was still as unflinching in his decision making as ever, regardless of his newfound humanity. "What's wrong?"

"Well, when I fell I took refuge with a family a little ways from here...and I wasn't at my best in the beginning."

"Yeah, so?"

"So I might have mentioned your names to them, that's all. And I did so in public, so..."

"So there's a chance some unfavorable company might know we're in town, is that it?" Dean charged ahead out of the elevator before turning to face Castiel. "Dammit Cas you know how dangerous that is; why would you just throw our names around for any demon to hear but not call us, your family?"

Cas looked down, eyes fixed on a single wrinkle in the gaudy auburn carpeting. "I did not mean to. I apologize."

"Right, ok. It's alright we'll just head out tomorrow, ok?" Sam's gaze flashing between them, unfazed by Cas' mistake for his contentedness of having the three of them safe for now.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow Cas." Dean unlocked the door, and went straight to the bed.

After about three hours, Dean decided sleeping was impossible. He hadn't felt so tired in a long time, but he couldn't stop thinking about Cas. Finding him hadn't taken the place of his obsessive search, and his mistake troubled Dean more than he thought was reasonable. So Cas made a mistake, fine, they can handle themselves. But the fact that he spoke of Dean and Sam to utter strangers and neglected to reach out to them... it seemed so wrong.

Then there was the look in Cas' eyes—the shining blue had taken on a dullness like Dean had never seen even in Purgatory. Maybe losing his angel mojo accounted for the lack of color, but they still looked far more sunken and tired than Jimmy Novak had looked.

Dean sat up. He should probably check on Cas; show him that he was thinking about him, though secretly because Dean was worked up and needed to calm down. Maybe seeing Cas and talking to him would be enough to calm him down enough for sleep. If not, there's always beer.

Careful not to wake Sammy, who slept peacefully across from him, Dean opened the door and stared down to see Castiel, leaned against the wall asleep. _Tired little guy_, Dean thought, taking his place next to him.

"We bought you a room you know."

"Hmm?" Cas rubbed his eyes and straightened up quickly, surprised.

"Wouldn't you rather sleep in a bed then on some curly, probably diseased carpeting?"

"Sorry, I didn't know I had fallen asleep."

"You're only human." Cas winced and looked down at his feet. "Sorry."

Cas sighed. "It's not an insult I suppose. All is forgiven."

"So why are you here again?" Dean now feeling himself relax against the peeling wallpaper. It was kind of comfy after all; no wonder Cas had fallen asleep here.

"I am here because I have a weird feeling, Dean. Like I could not go to sleep; I knew I wouldn't be able to, and I think it would be wrong if I did, so I came out here and waited. Do you know what this could mean?"

Dean sighed. "That's guilt Cas. You're feeling guilty."

Castiel began rubbing his hands together, obviously cold without his beloved trench coat. "For speaking of you to others, and perhaps for not trying to find you myself." Cas looked at Dean now, Dean seeing again the sunken eyes, looked away quickly.

"Yeah why didn't you call Sam or me?"

"I was embarrassed, Dean."

Dean put his head back, anger surfacing to replace his exhaustion. "Embarrassed? Really Cas? We went through hell—through Purgatory, together. We loved you like family and looked everywhere for you and you don't reach back because of embarrassment?" Dean's voice raised, forgetting the silent motel around him. This shell of a person beside him didn't feel like Cas, it was weak, and not because of the lack of angelic-ness; because of the lack of self respect.

"Dean...ever since I got here, as a...human..." Cas weighted the word as if we wished to avoid using it. "I have been feeling everything, as if for the first time. My vessel Jimmy was always...unsentimental you could say; it was easy to overlook his emotional responses. Though I'm learning that humans experience things more...complex than the black and white of the angel world." Cas was still focused on his hands, rubbing heat into them and avoiding eye contact.

"Well, yeah maybe it is. I never really considered that." This was certainly not something Dean wanted to discuss; he mostly avoided such discussions, with Bobby in his youth and with Sam every day. But Cas looked so lost... "I guess you do take some things to heart... especially if it ended badly or whatever. I think you remember a lot but you only really_ feel_ good or bad about stuff."

Cas' gaze flashed upwards, curious. "What about you Dean?"

Dean knew he would ask that; Cas always wanted to know his stance, his view on something, but there were some things, Dean thought, that you can't share even with Cas. Dean had seen death a million different ways happen to total strangers, his own family and even to him. Sometimes his efforts were enough, but frequently they weren't. The pain you feel during and after turn the previous happiness rotten too until you look back and you've nothing to smile about anymore. Memories are only happy if those you shared them with are still around to reminisce with you.

"I'm fine." He clears his throat. "So, listen, you need to go to bed Cas. Who knows where we'll be tomorrow, and you look like you could use some beauty sleep."

Cas responded wordlessly, taking notice of Dean's now solemn expression, and let Dean help him up and open the door to his room. Once inside however, the emptiness of the space combined with a shrunken Castiel with no luggage to his name only made the guy more aware of his isolation. Dean noticed all of this from Cas' hesitation, but said nothing, still shaken from their previous discussion.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I am thankful for the room you and Sam have given me, but I think I'm feeling something akin to loneliness?" He spoke the sentence like a question and upon asking it Dean responded inwardly with the realization that he was feeling lonely himself.

"Yeah, well you're probably just tired. Knock if you need anything." Dean closed the door as quickly as he could manage without slamming it; the sight of a lonely Cas would do nothing to help him sleep, but the implications of staying were too great. He leaned against the door for some time before returning to the room he shared with Sam. He thought of Ellen, Jo, Bobby, his father, Sam, his mother and even Adam. Of everyone who was now a sadness when he thought of their face. He had to stop getting so attached, so invested, especially with a human and easily targeted Cas.

And that's how Dean Winchester went to bed thinking of Schrodinger's cat, and how maybe if he left it alone its state wouldn't matter, and he could have it just as he imagined it.


	3. Chapter 3: Gabriel?

Dean awoke groggily after what seemed to be seconds from laying down to the sound of coffee beans grinding in the corner. "Really? You need coffee now Sam?"

"Wrong again Dean-o!"

_Son of a bitch._ Dean was on his feet in no time. "Gabriel! You- you followed us here?" The former archangel stood across from Dean's bed dawning a fashionable black suit and his best Cheshire Cat smirk. Instinctively looking to Sam, Dean only found an empty bed next to his.

"Wrong again! My three times in a row! Not you're best night eh?" 

"Where's Sam? And what do you mean three times?"

"Take a chill pill you rug rat. I will get to the third thing in a minute. Right now—" Gabriel stepped forward, ignoring the coffee now freshly made; he took a seat on the edge of Sam's bed. "Sit."

Reluctantly, Dean obeyed. _Maybe he knows how to help Cas._

"I am going to begin by telling you a few facts about your current situation Dean-o. Firstly-"he pointed dramatically to the air, "This is a dream. Secondly, I am not an angel, thirdly I am indeed supernatural again _thank god _I don't know how you people get around in those plain little meat suits, I really don't. Also this is a dream, you are dreaming and you will accompany me and not question where this is so obviously going. Good?" His little speech flowed so quickly it seemed rehearsed, and he quickly finished off with another unbearably shallow grin.

"Or, you tell me what you know, or I kill you." Dean was pushed around by angels far too long to be listening to one now, regardless of what kind of state he was in.

"It's a dream, Deeny. You can't kill an illusion." If Dean hadn't known better he would take Gabriel's expression for sympathy. "But no, I don't know how to help Cas, though this is about him."

Curiosity peaked, Dean leaned closer. "What about him?"

Gabriel snapped his fingers with a flourish and a giggle, and the room went gray.

It was a warm day, despite the fog, and Dean's jacket felt absolutely suffocating. Birds flew over the tops of fir trees and the ocean breeze blew in from the west. Dean began to feel dread, suddenly aware and searching for Gabriel. _If that son of a bitch left me stranded out here I swear-_

Laughter filled the clearing. A young boy, about eight, nine maybe? Laughed nervously at his father behind him. If not for their matching red plaid Dean may not have noticed he was watching himself and his father enter the clearing. We watched in awe as his younger self loaded the shotgun and glanced back in admiration at his father, as he mumbled his instructions before striding off in the opposite direction.

"No." Dean knew all too well what was coming next. His younger self was so eager to do the job right, aligning the gun in his too-tiny hands and waiting for the—what was it again? A werewolf, a demon? It didn't matter, he had to stop it. "Hey! Hey come on get out of there! Dean!"

"He can't hear you." Gabriel responded quietly but definitely, at Dean's side now."It's your memory Dean, he can't hear you."

Dean was sweating now, panicking. "Get out of my head."

And then came the horrifying growl. _Guess it wasn't a demon. _Little Dean's hands began to shake but he kept focused on the target, aiming for it. Quickly, almost imperceptibly, the gun was taken. The creature's swift movement out from the underbrush captured the weapon, leaving a young Dean crying out for his father, thrashing in front of him with one arm as he felt his pocket for the knife.

Dean looked away, sure of what was next. He covered his eyes until he saw blackness but heard his own screams while the creature stalked the boy. Gabriel placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and he shook it off; he would take no pity from a fallen douche of an angel. Dean waited out the attack, wanting Gabriel to end it but not wanting to grant him the satisfaction of hearing him ask; besides he was of no use to the boy, and memory grants him the ending.

The encounter seemed to go on for hours, not moments. Dean shook his head in shame as he heard himself cry out his father's name in fear; how pathetic. Then silence. He removed his hands slowly and carefully, seeing the clearing anew as the cold, dark hollow from his memories. The boy is seated, safe save a scratch to the arm, his tear-streaked face looking up at his father. _My dad sure knew how to save the day_, he thought.

"Dean what the hell were you thinking boy? You let him overpower you that easily? Is this how I raised you?"

Red faced and yelling, John Winchester watched his son lift his filthy head to respond, "I called you, Dad. I called you so many times. Why did you wait so long?"

"Because one day," John began, crouching, "you'll be doing this alone. I'm not always going to be there to help you. And because you're a disgrace— you know a Winchester always fights back! Didn't I make that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

They were once again in the motel room. Not previously aware of himself, Dean began to slow his breathing, glaring at Gabriel as he now offered a pitying smile from across the room.

"Do you want to tell me," Dean began in a shaky voice, "what the hell that was all about?"

Gabriel took a step forward, and Dean a step back. "How did you feel? When your father didn't save you?"

"He did."

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, questioningly. "Eventually."

No. This was Dean's memory and it didn't matter that this jackass was in his head; the memory was still just his.

Gabriel's smile faded to a blank expression, revealing nothing. "Humour me."

"Yeah well what do you expect? It hurt and for a minute-" his voice broke. "For a minute I thought he wouldn't come. His speech after didn't help much either." He sat down on the bed, feeling sick. "Can I wake up now?"

"Soon, Dean-o." Gabriel stood and went to Dean's side, smiling apologetically. "Why did his speech bother you?"

Dean felt on the verge of tears before retaking his cocky smile; he cried once in that forest and he wouldn't do it again and certainly not for some trickster. "Lonely."

Gabriel leapt up from his perch and spun around before shouting, "right on Dean! Finally getting something right eh buddy? So! My question to you is: why would you leave a friend in the same position?"

"Who? What, Cas? He's—"

"Abandoned by his father but without the heroic save at the end; worse than your little situation and he looked to you. Why didn't you stay?"

Gabriel looked as though it took effort to contain his excitement, and Dean to contain his rage. "I may be mistaken here, but I think that that's none of your damn business."

"Maybe, maybe not. Just looking out for my Baby Bro. So what do you say Dean-o? Spend your night helping your little angel, or dream about helping him? You've already thought about it, I'm just playing with it. You want this. So stop wasting time."

Dean was stunned to silence; clearly the guy had a point, he should help Cas, but at the same time it was Gabriel. The Trickster.

"Now, if you excuse me, I have a hot date in Las Vegas that needs attending to. Hence the suit you see." The Trickster spun round, fingering his collar. "In the mean time, go get 'em tiger."

And with that, Dean was awake.

Immediately looking to a sleeping Sam across from him, he examined the room. Finding the familiar garish wallpaper designs, curling carpet and a cup of freshly poured coffee next to a clock reading 12:32pm, Dean rose with plans to spend the rest of the day sleeping—only not here.

At Castiel's door Dean stood for several moments, debating. Was he really going to trust advice awarded him by Gabriel of all people? His whole job description is messing with people. But, then again he claimed to be inspired by Dean's own thoughts, and Dean could not deny their authenticity. He really had thought about staying, and about all the ways Cas might need his assistance; being needed and depended on like that appealed to Dean, and he sincerely wanted to help Castiel.

Maybe he wanted to help a friend, or maybe he wanted to help Cas; the two ideas always did seem different to Dean. Castiel was more than a friend; he was...just Cas. They had an understanding. But what if Cas wanted to change that? Dean wouldn't ever reject Cas, only change itself. Change had always been difficult for Dean. Whether it involves people coming or going it didn't matter; what he hated most was when they gained importance and left afterwards. Only Cas wouldn't leave, at least not purposely.

_Stop being so selfish, _Dean scolded himself before knocking three times at the door.

The door creaked open slowly, and Dean knew instantly he had made the right decision. Cas was a wreck with messy hair and wrinkled clothing; his face brightened a bit to see Dean though. "Hello Dean."

"Hello Cas." No time had passed at all; it was still just Dean and Cas. "Can I come in?"

Castiel stepped wordlessly back, letting Dean walk in and turn to face him. "You want to talk about it Cas?"

Cas' eyes reverted back to the dull lustre they had held earlier that day, and he shook his head no. Walking past Dean, Cas walked round to the other side of the bed and took a seat at the top of it. Dean sat obediently beside him, waiting.

Castiel looked up suddenly. "Are you tired?" _That bastard_, thought Dean. _Always putting me first._

"Are you?" Cas nodded. "Then you can sleep. I'll be here." Dean sat leaned against the headboard, stretching his legs in front of him while Cas reluctantly lay beside him, blankets haphazardly strewn around his small form.

Dean gripped the sheet and tugged it gently up to Castiel's shoulders, remembering his coldness from earlier. Castiel's hand gripped Dean's then, tapping twice before retracting to meet his shivering form.

_Yeah I know Cas, you're welcome._ Neither of them need say anymore as Cas drifted off to the warmth of companionship, and Dean to the rhythmic breathing of a damaged angel.


	4. Chapter 4: Lazy Afternoon

The two slept through the day and night; Dean exhausted from searching and the implications of finding, and Cas from the aftermath of, well, everything. In fact they were so tired they could have slept right through the following day as well if it weren't for Dean's hunger.

His hunger woke him from a deep slumber, growling incessantly. Blinking a few times before using sunlight and his feeling of restfulness to judge the time, he decided it was time to get them some food. He looked over to Castiel, who had rolled over since the two went to bed; he was now facing Dean, his eyes closed with only the occasional lash flutter. The blankets had made their way past his small shoulders and around his neck; one hand hugged the blankets to his chest, and the other coiled around Dean's arm.

Dean smiled at the sight; Dean Winchester, needed. Wanted. And by someone who was strong enough to fight for him and still kind enough not to leave. Dean smiled absentmindedly. _Thanks Cas._

But alas, Dean was hungry and it would probably do the two of them good to get some food; besides, he noticed Cas hadn't eaten much at the diner and that was days ago. Carefully raising Cas' arm with his free hand, Dean began his attempt at leaving; but Cas' skin felt so warm it was sickening. Dean felt he had no choice but to wake him

"Cas! Your arm is on fire!"

Castiel's eyes opened slowly, and he assessed his arm calmly before stating, "if that is a euphemism, I am unfamiliar with it."

"Cas I'm serious, your arm is so hot." Dean reached out the back of his hand toward Cas' face like his mom had done with him. "I think you have a fever Cas."

Dean watched Cas rub his face in his hands and clear his throat before mumbling something about being cold and closing his eyes again.

"Come on Cas! Talk to me. Aren't you hungry?"

"I can't Dean... the room won't stop moving."

_Oh great_, thought Dean. Obviously taking Cas with them as planned today would be impossible; they were already a day behind and who knows how quickly news spreads in the demon community about stationary ex-angels. Dean couldn't take a sick Cas in the impala for the sake of his sick friend and his clean car; it looked as though they'd be staying at Motel Creepy a little while longer.

Dean's stomach rattled. "Cas, I'm going to go get us some food and then we're going to get you feeling better, alright?"

Cas moaned and nodded to Dean. It was time to get the show on the road. Fixing his jacket by the hall mirror, Dean checked his pockets for the keys to his baby; that's when he saw the note.

Dean:

I went into town today and got food and supplies; you seemed busy. Your pie and Cas' burgers are in my room. –Sam

Great. Now their overdramatic heart-to-heart was one step closer to happening. Maybe Dean shouldn't go to Sam just yet.

Dean's stomach groaned. Then again, Sam has the pie...

Lucky for Dean's no-nonsense mood, Sam wasn't in their room when he went back; however there was pie and burgers as promised. Dean gleefully seized the bag and left as quickly as possible.

"Yo Cas, how you doing?" Dean asked, door slamming behind him.

"My head hurts." He was sitting up now, a good sign. Or maybe he was hungry too.

"Oh sorry."

"In fact my symptoms may have increased in intensity since last I saw you. Also my nose seems to be leaking a strange substance; I think perhaps I've been possessed."

"Yeah, no. Welcome to humanity Cas, you've officially caught the common cold."

"Well it feels awful."

Dean patted Cas' arm. "Hey, if it makes you feel any better Sam got you some burgers." Cas watched as Dean held up the bag and nodded thanks when he got his meal. Together they feasted, eating quickly and without taking notice of each other. Their hunger pangs began to die down when Dean's apple pie and four of Cas' burgers were nearly gone.

"Dean?"

"Yeah Cas?"

"Can I try some pie?"

"You've never had pie before?"

"No."

Had this been Sam the answer would have been a brief sarcastic glare and Dean sitting further away, but Cas was doing the puppy dog thing. "Fine, I'll give you some of mine." Dean scooped some onto his plastic fork and handed it to Cas, waiting for the verdict. "Well?"

Cas wrinkled his nose and handed the fork back to Dean. "I don't think I like pie flavour."

The two finished up their meals and spent the rest of the day on Cas' bed. The two didn't say much, partly because Cas had a sore throat, and also because that's just how they were—words were never needed.

Dean left only momentarily, hoping to drive down to a drug store and get some stuff for Cas, but Sam still hadn't returned and apparently he had taken Baby with him. It didn't bother Dean too much though; he needed some time just to be with Cas. When they decided they wouldn't be leaving any time soon, the two turned on the television and started flipping the channels. Cas kept asking for the news to be put on, so that he may 'become better acquainted with everyday happenings here on Earth', but Dean soon made the argument that nothing ordinary would be appreciated in a television show about newsworthy things. They settled on watching reruns of sitcoms, movies and the occasional Bugs Bunny and Tweety episode.

Nothing really extraordinary happened, just a lot of television interrupted occasionally by Cas' nose-blowing or the two sharing a laugh. Dean would get drinks or snacks from a vending machine in the hall on commercial breaks, and they had to keep changing seating positions so as not to be uncomfortable as time flew by. And somewhere in the stuffy afternoon the two found rhythm; one moving over when the other was uncomfortable, Dean sensing when Cas might need to cough or change position. When Cas had his coughing fits Dean was there to pat his back and rub his hair. When Leonardo DiCaprio died at the end of the Titanic movie on cable, Cas handed him his near empty Kleenex box.

When the sun started to go down, Dean sighed, thinking that Sam would soon be back and life would go on and this subtle rhythm they had been dancing to might draw to an end. Dean turned off the tv.

"Dean?"

Dean turned to face him; thank god Cas looked so much better. A smile traced around Cas' eyes, and although the dullness was still having its affect, there was a twinkle there too. "Yeah Cas?"

"I like being human." His smile was showing now—shining, actually.

"You think so do you?"

"If this is humanity, laughing at absurdly colored talking animals and improbable, fictitious relationships playing on what you call _cable_, then I am confused. But the feeling I have experiencing this with you is most positive." He paused. "I think this is happiness."

Dean smiled, looking down. "Well yeah, sometimes it's all about the little things. Details."

"Like when you watched that kids' show because you knew I liked it, or when you made me the tea?"

Dean smiled. "Oh yeah, how is your tea by the way?"

"Horrible."

"Oh."

"That wasn't the point."

"I know." The two smiled. Happy. "Dean, you know I am fairly uneducated when it comes to human interactions... but after our experience today I do feel a bit more fluent."

"That so?"

Before either one could continue, Cas took Dean's face in his hands, and kissed him lightly on the lips. Silent as ever, Cas backed away slowly, gauging Dean's response. Dean smiled slowly, welcoming the feeling of warmth as he realized today would be an excellent memory for him. For them.

"Cas, I think you might be a bit unaware of how viruses are spread."

Cas' eyes widened. "Oh, I do apologize. I suppose I am unfamiliar with—" Dean leaned in and kissed him again.


	5. Chapter 5: The People in Your Charge

Dean awoke to sunlight warming his forehead as it streamed through the blind. Dean couldn't have imagined sleeping anymore than he previously had, but somehow he had managed it for another night. His head rested on Cas' shoulder, and his arms felt cold without his beloved jacket; he had given it to Cas last night when he was still feeling cold. He leaned forward to look at Cas, sleeping peacefully in his coat. His entire body appeared relaxed, and even in sleep he had one arm curled around Dean's arm.

_Cas_. How reliant Dean had become on seeing him. Time spent searching for him left Dean feeling exhausted and crazed at the same time. Now that Cas was safe, Dean seemed to glance his way constantly. Cas wasn't the force he was with wings despite his strength of character, and Dean knew it was only a matter of time before the pride Cas kept so hidden would drive him mad. Dean would be there for it. If they could manage only one more day of wordlessness then it would be worth it.

Dean carefully rose and went to Sam's room; he needed to talk to his brother. Sure talking wasn't his strongpoint when it came to sensitivity, but he needed his goofy little brother to know him; know how he felt. Sam spent a childhood not knowing his father's humanity, but not his brother; Dean was always just Dean, and Sam was always Sammy. That's just how it is.

When Sam wouldn't come to the door, Dean assumed him asleep and used his own room key. "Sam? Sammy you up?"

The room appeared as if it hadn't been touched. Sam's untouched salad sat rotting on the nightstand as it had the day before, his backpack and laptop on the table still. It was as if he'd left the room for only a second, save the bad food.

Dean swept the room, looking for the note announcing his impending return. That's when he saw Sam's cell phone laying on the floor, dead next to his room key. There was blood on the floor. Dean approached the back wall by the computer and saw the bloody handprint in the center of it. He swallowed hard. The hunt was on.

Castiel had seen everything; bitterness, wars, apocalypse, creation and destruction. He knew of every possibility and every probable result and yet there was always something wonderful about seeing an event unfold. His considerably little time spent on Earth provided much entertainment in the unknown and spectacular displays the humans had created; sometimes it made him feel the odd one out, but it mostly made him feel curious.

Now that the angel was human himself, that curiosity was amplified, and charged with emotional attachment. The sunrise felt warmer and renewed each day, as if it hadn't rose much the same way only a day before. Hearing a baby crying down the hotel hallway now made Castiel frown rather than stare in indifference; what was it Dean had called that? Empathy?

And everyday Cas developed a new opinion on something. Today it was about waking up alone. Cas decided he hated this feeling.

It was not as if Cas hadn't experienced it before, especially with his newfound humanity, but going to bed knowing he and Dean were safe with each other and then waking up deserted just felt wrong. Castiel remembered telling Dean a long time ago that he had grown too attached to the humans in his charge, but now it felt like maybe they were in each other's charge. That felt good. Strong, even. But losing track of your charge for even a moment meant uncertainty, and this was the kind of uncertainty that the curious angel could do without.

Climbing out of bed and stretching his small shoulders, stiff from the hotel mattress, Cas set out to find his ward.

"Good, you're here." Dean motioned for Cas to have a seat on the bed while he continued to scroll through Sam's search history on his laptop. Sam hadn't mentioned anywhere he might be going, but maybe he'd found a case to investigate and found some trouble. Dean sighed. _Sam should know better than to go it alone._

Cas was now seated on the end of Sam's bed with a puzzled expression. "What's going on, Dean?"

"Well, Sam's missing."

Cas nodded, his expression earnest. "Missing what exactly?"

_Dammit Cas_. "Missing as in gone, Cas. I don't know where he is. Judging from the blood on the wall and floor and from his phone and room key laying here I'd say he wasn't exactly planning a holiday."

"Oh. Perhaps he left with some form of protection?"

"His backpack is still here with all his supplies in it, I checked."

Cas watched Dean intently while he continued reading Sam's information machine. He had seen Dean wear that solemn expression every time his brother had been endangered by their work for as long as he could remember. It was a mix of regret and determination, and the sight of it brought back those same feelings he'd experienced that night after their reunion; the deeply rooted unease which Dean had described as guilt.

"I think I found something. Look at this Cas." Dean turned the laptop towards Cas, revealing an article from the local paper accompanied by a picture of a woman with long curly hair and layers of gaudy rosary beads. "Apparently there's been some witchy activity in town lately. There's a local shop not far from here that sells creepy supplies to witches in the area, but it was closed down a week ago and there have been three murders since then—all young women. Virgin sacrifice maybe?"

Cas cleared his throat. "I arrived in town one week ago, and I recognize the woman in that picture."

Dean sighed and poured a drink. These sons of bitches were going to use Sam to get to Cas—but he wasn't going to let that happen. No one messes with his family, and especially no creepy-ass witches.

"Good. Then we know right where to find them." He stood up and swung Sam's bag over his shoulder before going about the room and putting what remained of their possessions in the bag too.

"Dean, I feel I must apologize, I—"

Dean spun around. "You got nothin' to apologize for Cas. Now come on." He patted Cas on the back. "Let's have ourselves a witch hunt."


	6. Chapter 6: All About Me

Hello? Hey there faithful little reader! I'm sure at this point your little human brain might start to wonder, 'hey somewhat-all-knowing-narrator, why are you addressing me in first person now?' Well Chuckles, it's because the old narrator has been replaced; say hello to the splendid, the magnificent, the drop-dead stunningly handsome Trickster himself...GABRIEL!

I shall wait for your undoubtedly enthusiastic applause before continuing.

Fine. Your precious narrator is safe—I would never be so predictable as to simply get rid of her, no-siree. I just wanted to tell the story for a bit, as I am basically the star of this next chapter. Now I know what you're thinking: "But Gabe, you've only been in one scene in this story, and we want more Destiel!" (Don't lie to yourselves; Destiel is exactly why you are reading this.)

Well then. I promise you I will tell this story as accurately as I can, thus providing a satisfying beginning, middle, and end. Hey, it's more than she was going to write. What kind of prophet owns six cats anyways... well, if you're not counting Luke.

So. To begin...

Picture it; a clouded sky, bleak grey atmosphere all around, and a layer of mist that wet the ground and reeked of fish. The Impala drove a bit too fast into the murky area, and there was not a person in sight save some creepy children playing in their front yard; so basically it looked like every other creepy case the Winchester bros had handled.

The Impala was headed straight for the witches' supply shop; my little bro Castiel worrying about his wifey's speeding as Dean bitched about Sam not filling up the gas in the beloved impala. Same old stuff.

After an excruciatingly long car ride filled with meaningful glances and shared worries about their pet moose, they reached the store. Dean of course was out first; frisky little guy. Cas was close behind, feeling better than before but still wearing Dean's dorky leather coat over the old trench. They went right to the shop door. I of course waited behind because I knew what they'd find.

A torn page from a notepad which read: If you want your brother alive, warehouse by noon.

Dean was worried, Cas did his creepy-ass squinty-eye thing, yada yada yada back to me.

Impalas do not agree with me; not the worst looking car, but they smell and all the black leather clashes with my fair yet flawless complexion. My standards are a tad higher from the Winchester boys; blame it on my time spent at cloud nine.

So I took it upon myself to check out the old warehouse by the woods, which is an incredibly vague statement as the entirety of this suffocatingly small town is located by the woods but deal with it, I'm writing this thing now.

Normally I'm not big on doing other people's dirty work even if it is for the Winchesters, but I was sent for a reason, and this seemed like a pretty big hint at why.

The whole atmosphere felt wrong; the watery mist that had affected the whole town had no impact here. The factory was dry as a bone and there wasn't a car in sight. Tall windows were all covered over with what looked like plastic sheeting, and nothing moved in, or outside of the brick walls. That's when I saw the Circle.

Still being an angel or whatever has its perks, and the gigantic double ring glowed green through the grass. It crossed through the parking lot and grassy border to encircle the complex and most of the parking area. Not like any devil's trap I could remember. Sam wasn't here. I could feel it. And I'd seen that trap before, years ago. It was developed in the Midwest by a group of witches and demons to trap fallen angels who would then be used for spells and stuff. You get the picture.

The Winchesters could prove useful for witches or demons of any sort, but luring the boys now meant luring Castiel; three for the price of one.

I turned, wind billowing through my luxurious hair, and as I eyed the distance thoughtfully, I—

_Ahem_. I am being informed by a pesky little prophet that I'm getting a bit off track. But I'm sure you get the picture. I'm really quite striking.

A black van reeled into the parking lot; two demons and two witches stepping out of it when it stopped in front of the building's windowless double doors. A whole lot of sketchy. The witches were clearly the women with awkwardly long dreads and jewelry from head to toe. Seriously though, they were so textbook witchy they gave other witches a bad name. I should know; I dated a witch before. Natalia; feisty little thing. Too bad about her pyromania thing though...

The other two, one man and a woman, were demons and clearly leading the pack. Dark hair and tan skin, maybe even siblings. They all exchanged a few words before the two witches took the keys and prepared to drive off. Now, I couldn't hear much of what they were saying; partly because I wasn't in full angel mode and partly because I find it hard to care about things not focused on me. I can't tell you how humiliating it is to go so long being invisible. It's like being a geeky high school student without the plastic-surgery-induced happy ending.

But I heard enough to know that Sam was in the backseat of that van and that Dean and Cassy were headed right for the ex-angel trap. So, being the hero that I am, I did nothing.


End file.
